


Is It Any Wonder

by dreamlittleyo



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Program Sex, Sexual Content, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Wordcount: 100-2.000, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-08
Updated: 2011-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:19:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tron is a remarkably quick study.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Is It Any Wonder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YanaGoya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YanaGoya/gifts).



Tron on his knees might be the prettiest sight on the Grid.

No, Flynn thinks. Fuck ' _might_ '. Tron on his knees _is_ the prettiest sight on the Grid. And if Flynn weren't already hard from having his hands all over Tron a moment before, he'd sure as hell be getting there now from the way Tron's head tilts back to watch him—the way Tron is _looking_ at him, curious and eager, with eyes full of questions and unmasked hunger.

Flynn reaches down to touch Tron's face, curling his fingers beneath Tron's jaw and forcing his head farther back. His thumb traces the curve of Tron's lower lip, and Tron's mouth opens fractionally at the touch. Testing. Uncertain.

Flynn presses his thumb past Tron's lips and wonders if he'll have to explain.

Then Tron closes his mouth, licks tentatively at the pad. Flynn presses the digit deeper, and Tron gives an experimental suck, tongue curling around the first knuckle.

Jesus, he's a natural at this, and Flynn's pretty sure if he doesn't get his fly open in the next thirty seconds he's going to come apart right here.

Flynn withdraws his thumb, but keeps his commanding hold of Tron's chin. He reaches with his free hand to pop the button of his jeans work the zipper down, then reaches past all that annoying fabric to pull his impatient hard-on out into the cool Grid air.

Tron's eyes fall from Flynn's face to consider his cock. Tentative understanding sparks in his eyes.

Tron is familiar enough with Flynn's cock. He's handled it more than once. He knows what it feels like inside him, the same way Flynn knows how goddamn amazing Tron's body feels tightening around him—from the one time he got carried away and let Tron goad him into a hard, fast fuck against the wall of the new arena.

But this is new territory. This is a whole new experience, uncharted terrain, and Flynn can practically _see_ Tron's quick mind working to try and arrange the pieces of the puzzle.

His cock pulses eagerly in his hand, and god, if Tron on his knees is pretty, Tron on his knees staring down Flynn's cock is even better. He's so close. The head is all but grazing Tron's lips.

"Open your mouth," Flynn murmurs.

Tron complies, and full comprehension dawns instantly across his face.

He accepts the nudging head of Flynn's cock, drops his jaw wider to accommodate Flynn's intimidating girth. There's no hint of strain in his eyes, despite the wide mouthful—no twinge of discomfort in his posture—just a sparkle of mischief as he inches forward and hollows his cheeks, sucking on the flesh filling his mouth.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Flynn groans, staring down in awe. He's going to have to find himself a new word, because 'pretty' doesn't even begin to cover this. His thumb strokes Tron's jaw, gentle grip guiding him farther along, and his other hand lets go of his cock to card trembling fingers through Tron's hair.

Tron makes a pleased sound, low in his throat, and Flynn can't look away. For a moment he can't scrape together the brain cells to form coherent words, but eventually he manages the trick.

"You can use your hands," he says. His voice comes out gruff with arousal.

Tron draws back slightly, keeping just the head of Flynn's cock in his mouth as he raises a hand and curls his fingers confidently around the shaft. He gives a single stroke, quick and sure. Then a second, but this time he bobs his head in time with the stroke, drawing Flynn deeper into his mouth.

Flynn's fingers tighten in Tron's hair and he doesn't mean to jerk Tron forward. Tron doesn't fall off-balance at the tug—his reflexes are too good for that—but he braces his free hand on Flynn's thigh, fingers grasping sharply.

Tron's fingers tease him, touching deliberately, lightly, offering just enough pressure to taunt. His grip firms before Flynn can complain, and then he's stroking in earnest, sucking purposefully on the length filling his mouth, drawing Flynn quickly to an unrepentant brink.

And then, just when Flynn's sure this can't get any better, Tron sinks farther forward, takes Flynn all the way to the back of this throat, and then—fuck, _then_ —

Then Tron opens up and fucking _swallows_ , and Flynn gives an inarticulate shout as his cock slips down Tron's throat like it's the easiest thing in the world.

His legs threaten to give out beneath him and it's lucky there's a wall barely six inches behind him, because he collapses against it now. His grip tightens, and he doesn't mean to drag Tron even farther along the length of his cock, but it happens anyway, and Christ, Tron doesn't even twitch in protest, he just takes it and keeps coming.

Flynn can count on one hand the number of people who have ever been able to do this to him—he's generously endowed and he damn well knows it—and the sheer fucking _ease_ with which Tron is somehow managing the trick is seriously undermining his calm.

"Jesus Christ," Flynn breathes.

And then Tron has no farther to go—his hand is pressed palm-flat against Flynn's stomach, his nose nudging at overheated skin and wiry curls, his lips stretched wide around Flynn's cock—and Flynn barely sees the sharp, sudden cliff's-edge of his own orgasm before he's falling right over the side.

The world goes white—not just in his head, but all around them, power pulsing bright and hot in all directions. He feels Tron's throat working around him, swallowing, and then the world shifts sharply. The next thing Flynn knows he's on his knees.

Tron is supporting his slumped weight, petting his hair fondly as the fingers of his other hand drift in random patterns over Flynn's back.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Flynn asks, groggy and sated.

He can hear the smile in Tron's voice when he responds, "The concept was simple enough."

Flynn groans, exhausted but content.

"Incredible."

"Thank you," Tron says, and goes right on holding him.


End file.
